Upsetting The Deck
by Nova Bucker
Summary: Being a betrayed, former-drug runner slash nerd posthumously dumped into a not-so-fictional-anymore universe is no damn walk in the park. Being an adventure, mystery and weirdness magnet makes staying alive mission freaking impossible. Attempting to join THE Team, keep secrets, juggle cases, make lives better, & stay on top of the plot quickly spiraling out... Full Summary inside
1. Origins P1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, broke due to just buying a copy of Pokémon Black, woot, woot. (Lucario event is a fucking rip, I bought my game at Gamestop, WTF? No Bullet Punch Lucario for me I suppose... Jerks...)

**A/N:** I've been toying with this idea for a while, along with a Pokémon fanfic and an X-Men: Evolution fic, but decided that due to AnaUzumaki's nagging, I would write this first. So here we are and TALLY HOOOO! (Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review on your way out.)

**NOTE:** There was an edit, this chapter has been edited, most importantly the last line of this chapter has been altered slightly and spelling errors are gone.

**NOTE 2:** Apparently this fanfic was deleted for some reason and my submission access was restricted for some stupid reason, fuck it. So I'm reposting the fanfic, since apparently some retard is on a deletion spree… Stupid MOFUs…

**NOTE 3:** As of late I haven't been updating any of my fics recently. One of the reasons are college planning/classes/things related to education, the other reason is that my German Shepherd, Lady Snow, has an form of aggressive cancer and is currently on her last legs and has started having seizures as of today. None the less, I will try my best to update as best I can in the future, thank you for reading and enjoy.

**LAST UPDATED:** 7/15/2012

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**Origins (Part 1)**

It all began with a bang, a gunshot, the pulling of a trigger causing the firing pin to-

**WHAM!**

And the visitation of violence upon my person.

Stars seemed to cloud my vision, my thoughts…

Boot!

I gasped desperately for air as a heavy boot gave three heavy blows to my stomach, the voice of its owner sounded, muffled.

"-ungrateful, bitch!" The boot's owner was male, tall, muscular, and angry as he seemed to punctuate each word with another additional kick.

My foggy vision drifted up for a moment, he had a bloody face…

Oh, yeah, I hit the bastard with a bat, broke his pretty, ickle nose, served the jerk right. Bruised him up good, the cocky little shi-

**WHAM!**

'_Ow.'_

Despite the cloudy haze of pain my sluggish body was in, I felt my bloody lips curl into a smirk and heaved out a winded little giggle…

Heh…

Suddenly, I was hoisted into the air by the front of my hoodie and greeted by the most rank breathe I'd ever smelt, his eyes were livid, like little lightbulbs… I can't even think about trying to push down the small peal of laughter that seemed to slip past my lips…

**SLAM!**

Pain… The back of my head… Was that a wall?

His voice was still muffled, I really, can't register…

"-all this trouble for you! And you _reject_ me?" Another slam of the back of my skull to the wall…

Feh, that's what this shit's about? Son of a bitch couldn't take a little rejection? Hah… This coming from a guy who's supposed to kill me, all I did was reject trading sex for my life… Whoa…

My vision blurred again, can't remember where the pain started…

I laughed again.

Maybe my self-preservation instincts really did jump ship a few years ago-

"-I'll take what I fucking please!"

A stinging sensation on my left cheek indicated that he'd slapped me, I don't know why, but I felt a sort of bubbly sensation in my stomach as he pressed a knife to my neck…

Wasn't afraid, kinda mad, but zen and shit…

"-pity," I hear him say almost apologetically, "you won't appreciate the full experience, undeserving whore."

Who's a whore now?

Suddenly I'm on the hard floor, and my eye stings… Feels like someone tried to squish it with a hammer…

I'm picked up and thrown again, I try to catch myself and land awkwardly on my right knee, I think I screamed?

…

Yes that's probably me…

Pain exploding through my leg, superseding the feeling on hitting my head on the corner of a nightstand, blood?

I get a small glimpse of my knees, ah, so that's where he shot me…

I'm trying to move, I really am, but it's like moving through cement, as if my entire body's slow, my right leg's too painful to move and my head's just, foggy…

Hard to breathe…

I think he's choking me, gotta push him away… Where's my knife? The fuck, where's that knife…

I struggled again, I slammed a bruised elbow into the guy's face… Repeatedly, elbow spam, yay…

He's down and off of me, I scramble to stand, pain, shit! The old lamp flickered ominously, a glint, yes! There's my knife.

I know my knife, worn but still shiny handle, hidden blade ready to flick out at my command, my longest most faithful companion. Like my arms, the extension of myself, lost without it… Come to mama-

I started to hobble quickly as I could towards my weapon, and a sharp tug to my good leg makes me fall flat on my face…

"You little tart," the male says, breathing hard as he wrenches himself up, "I'm going to fucking kill you for that."

A quick shadow passes, I try to get up, aiming a kick to his 'nads with my good leg, a grunt of pain-

**WHAM!**

My vision clouded, and my attempts to gain the upper hand thwarted, where did he get a pipe?

"I wanted to have some fun tonight," he punctuated his sentence with another sharp blow aimed to my side, pain was everywhere now, "but now I think I'll just kill you first, I'm just going to do it as slowly as I want… Yeah, that's right."

I think the man is ranting now, I think I'm going to pass out, can't, don't want to die, 'specially by the hands of this scumbag…

He's too close for comfort, sitting astride my hips, pinning me down, he had abandoned the pipe, and settled for pummeling me face with heavy fists and stiff knuckles-

**WHUMP!**

I was lifted slightly by the front of my shirt and driven down to slam the back of my head against the wood floor, even more stars seem to bloom before my eyes…

Hot, labored breath is in my face, damn perv! He's lying on me like some lover, hell no! Lips pressed ardently into mine, tongue invading and most unwelcome. I snap my teeth down, and the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth, I clamp my jaw shut and he rips away, howling.

As expected of someone who had just had the tip of their tongue bitten clean off.

Suddenly, he sits up and resumes beating me to death, despite my struggles to free myself and shove him off.

I grope at the floor almost frantically, come on, something!

Plastic, metal, familiar finger-grooves, YES!

_Flick!_

He howled and fell to the side, I shove him as hard as I can manage, getting him at least half of the way off of me, I had stabbed him in the leg. I'd gotten a hold of the knife, flicked out the blade and stabbed him… Maybe, just maybe I won't die tonight…

I shoved myself up, tried to ignore the dizziness that resulted in that action and brought the knife down again, this time to his shoulder, twice.

Before he could retaliate I shoved him again, this time succeeding in getting him off of me, making him flip over.

Exposing his belly, his throat, all the soft, bleed-easy tissue-!

Red, I can see it now, I don't stop, I won't stop. Bringing my clenched fist down again, his stomach, just again, again, again, AGAIN!

I don't know when I stop, past or present tense? Not really sure, I can vaguely hear him speaking…

"-won't bring 'em back from the dead bitch!" My former-captor crowed triumphantly, his voice growing steadily weaker as more red stained his shirt, I stabbed his shoulder, why won't he shut up? "-they're all still dead! Every last one of you little West-sider shits! Dead! Even you're leader! He sold out every last one of y- gurgh!"

He gave a weak gurgle, as he should, I drove the knife's edge into his throat. Thrice, because you never could be too careful…

Silence, finally, the fuzziness in my head cleared a bit and the pain in my knee seemed far away now.

I stumbled off of the fallen man, and decided to search for a bandage.

Stupid tiny cabin in the middle of plum-fucking nowhere… No bandages, so I used some loose bedsheets that I'd torn up.

Vaguely, I think that I'd better get to a phone before my adrenaline rush wears off and the searing pain of being shot in the freaking kneecap starts taking precedence in my mind… I think I remember seeing a roadside telephone across a small road not too far away, well, while the man was dragging my sorry, drugged up form to this cabin I mean…

I can barely use my bad leg, so I settle for hobbling, I'm taking very little notice of the red that stained my hands and my jacket sleeves, I'm holding my knife tight like a lifeline.

In a way, it is.

"_-He sold out every last one of y-!"_

The late enemy's words rang inside my pain-addled mind, and I don't deny it. All my friends were dead, if you could call them that, the only thing waiting for me was an emotionally-absent mother and a system ready to toss me in the slammer faster than I could say 'screw' without so much as a word in my defense.

Nate couldn't have… He wouldn't…

As I hobbled out into the direction that I knew the road must be, I couldn't help but think back to the events of my life that had led up to this point.

I was part of a gang, West-siders of the city, whatever city that was, really ain't important because I hated it anyway. Not like those big criminal gangs that get reported in the news all the time, if any of us had been caught doing any drugs, shootings or hold-ups like that, Nate woulda tossed us all out to the wolves faster than anything.

We were small, only about twenty-two people, mostly kids and teens with real crappy homelives, Nate gave us all a place to go. Together, we stole anything that wasn't tied down well enough and did our best to stay out of juvie and jail, and Nate was considered one of the cheaper, least violent drug dealers of the city, it was a means to an end nothing more, just a way to get by.

He picked up the scraps, and scammed the most desperate drug addicts, and was always on the prowl for a quick buck.

Yes, we dealt drugs, but only in small amounts, and none of us had dared to get hooked on it ourselves, mostly under the threat of an enraged Nate kicking us to the curb for using up 'perfectly good merchandise.'

If you could survive an eternally moody and easily pissed Nate, then he was generally the best option. But it could not be said that he was a merciful person, no, he was vengeful, vindictive, egotistical and petty to the extreme. But he protected his own, by hiding and through metaphorical smokescreens to make for a quick escape.

We never got involved with other gangs, and did our best to stay out of their ways, unfortunately, that wasn't always possible. Sometimes, other gangs would harass us, or worse, attack us, forcing Nate to act, though due to our small size, he would get the larger gangs to start fighting each other again with misinformation and set-ups so that they'd eventually forget about us again.

Then Nate managed to piss off the wrong person.

…

Joey died first.

The cops said it was an accident, but everyone knew better.

One by one, West-Siders disappeared, then turned up dead without so much as an explanation. Even Jenny, who was only nine, found raped and very much dead in an alleyway in the bad side of the city, Nate didn't even send her out there, she was only a pickpocket, in the better part of town under the subtle supervision of Nate himself or one of the Core members.

It was murder.

Nate had retaliated, he did kill several stone-cold, and we even thought that we'd win at some point, maybe, especially after we'd successfully raided one of the smaller hideouts.

It was not to last, firefights just weren't our thing.

It didn't matter how stealthily we killed off Raven-members, there were twenty more to replace every corpse.

Then Nate disappeared.

No words need be said, our leader, our protector, was assumed dead.

I wasn't second in command, but since the deaths of Nate and his core group, the responsibility fell to me. I sent the remaining total of six kids between the ages ten to fifteen into hiding as my first act as leader.

That was my first mistake as leader.

I tried to assassinate the man targeting us, and succeeded, though I don't really remember how I managed it all too well.

That was my second mistake, the ensuing consequences led to the deaths of Martha and Digger, then forced all that remained to go into hiding.

We'd gotten several cities away, I'd thought we'd be safe, at least for a night.

That was my third mistake, I'd assumed that we could stay two nights in a small motel…

The ensuing events, were not hard to predict, my last two friends, my family, dead, and it's all my fault. It was undeniable, I had failed them.

We'd been family, all the true family that any one of us ever had, a screwed up, patchwork family that was dead as doornails.

But it doesn't matter anymore anyway, Nate would've been so disappointed in me. I didn't deserve to live while they all died, but here I still was, because Nate would've given me a kick in the ass to hear such "defeatist bull-fuckery."

The man who'd almost killed me had been one in a long line of Ravens that I'd killed, every time, but tonight was probably the closest call I'd ever had.

I don't even like killing all that much, too messy, God my knee hurts…

I want to live in peace, and drink legally, I wanted to go to college despite Nate's disinterest and the fact that I hate the assholes who run it. Is that all too much to ask?

I can see the road, and double my pace.

Maybe I'll go to Canada, get a job there, get a GED, live a little…

I falter, and stumble and the pain of my knee is almost too much, but I can't give, not now. I'm alive, my friends aren't, I can't disappoint them by dying now.

…

I don't know how long I've been laying on the ground, but it feels as if I've been for an eternity.

I grasp at the dirt, and press down.

'_Get up damn you, get up!'_ I berate myself, I flopped down weakly as my vision swam dangerously.

I can't even muster up enough strength to move, nights of very little food and even less sleep was really taking its toll on me…

'_Weakling.'_

I clenched my fists, I am NOT. WEAK!

The words rang within the confines of my skull again.

'_-He sold out every last one of y-!'_

'_He sold us out,' _I think bitterly as the truth seems to sink in, _'he sold _me_ out.'_

It made sense, how they found every hiding spot so quickly, everyone's schedule. The fact that Nate's disappearance wasn't reported or anything… I suddenly wished that I never knew, maybe the true weight of Nate stabbing me in the back was numbed by the searing pain in my leg…

Somehow, I dragged myself up and made my way slowly across the road-

Halfway there, it suddenly occurs to me that I had no-one to call, they were all dead, or turned traitor in Nate's case. I can't call the police, which was another death sentence in itself.

I'm alone.

I'm only a few meters from the phone, what could I do-?

**SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**

Bright light suddenly floods my vision, what-?

**WHAM! **

Pain everywhere, my bones shattering upon impact for a moment, then just black…

OOOOO

_I'm floating._

_I've been floating for a while… I think I've finally come to terms with a lot of things in life, like my friends being dead, not totally my fault then, just a lot of survivor's guilt. I really did want to live, but I guess it just wasn't in the cards for me, it's the end of the line I suppose…_

"_The story isn't over yet."_

_Who?_

"_Time to wake up," the voice says, "you're ready now."_

_Why did it sound so familiar?_

"_I'm sorry things were so hard," the voice apologized quickly, "but I couldn't put you anywhere else."_

_The voice is male._

"_Are you even listening to me?"_

_Am I dead? I must be dead, or at least to the best of my knowledge I should be._

_The voice sighs, "I'm sorry that I can't explain everything to you, my time is short, but I do have one piece of advice for you…"_

_The voice pauses, I listen into the surrounding abyss intently._

"_There's an extraordinary world out there, live."_

_That's it? Thanks, as if I couldn't figure that one out on my own, fuck you very much._

"_Still contrite as ever," the voice would probably roll his eyes, well, if he had any, "but you'll see what I mean eventually."_

_Really? No shit Sherlock, my lover just sold me everyone else out, and I'm dead, so let me die in peace already._

_The voice sighs again, "I'm beginning to wonder if the possibility of a rampaging, instinctual girl-animal was the __**better **__option."_

_Life sucks, and apparently, so does death, now go the fuck away and let me be dead in peace._

"_You're every bit as rude as I remember you, but my time grows short," the voice says dryly, and then I feel as if someone if prying at the inside of my brain and tapping my skull, "you're very much alive and the world is not as you know it, I hope that you'll use the advantage that you've been given wisely, now wake up."_

_Wait, what? Hold up, what happened to being hit with a-_

"_Welcome to the world Molly," the voice says with an air of finality, "I pray that it'll be ready for you."_

_Suddenly, the voice's presence disappeared, which I hadn't even noticed until it was gone._

_Suddenly, there's this brilliant light exploding past my eyelids._

I open my eyes…

…

And of all the odd things about my current situation chasing my thoughts around in my head, the first thing that I thought was:

'_Why the hell am I in a straitjacket?'_

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**A/N:** Holy, that's eight frickin' pages dudes! Yes! AnaUzumaki can stop bugging me for now, until she finishes reading of course. Anyhoo, tell me what you guys think with reviews! Constructive criticism is preferred and flames are prohibited. So gimme feedback, and if you see any mistakes please point them out 'kay? REVIEW! Ciao!


	2. Origins P2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, I wish I did, but I don't because life sucks like that and not in the fun way, I'll deal.

**Full Summary: **Being a betrayed, former-drug runner-slash-nerd posthumously dumped into a not-so-fictional-anymore universe is no damn walk in the park. Being an adventure, mystery and weirdness magnet makes staying alive into mission freaking impossible. Attempting to join THE Team, keep secrets, juggle cases, make lives better, and stay on top of the plot quickly spiraling out of control? Over my damn head as usual, but I'll try anyway.

**A/N:** I can't believe that I'm actually writing again, feels like forever since I've actually posted on a timely manner for anything… My dog, Lady Snow was put down on the seventeenth of July, may she rest in peace, which was depressing in itself because I had to drive her to the vet that morning. And my Mom is dating again, in speed dating form, I just find myself wishing her luck and praying that she doesn't find an obsessive stalker by some twist of fate. Apart from that the impending start of college is making feel really antsy and nervous for some reason… Good lord my thoughts are all over the place, anyways, please read and leave a review while I attempt to not feel as if I'm standing on the edge of a very, very high cliff…

**New A/N:** Okay, I know I haven't updated in forever, I want to write, I really do, but now I'm juggling college classes and a new job that I kind of really suck at, life is getting in the way of my writing, and then when I find time to write, all the creative juice in my brain is gone by then. I'm trying, I really am, and I feel that I have revised enough ideas that I'm going to edit the existing chapters(which isn't many thank goodness) and then I will attempt to work on a new one. Again, sorry it's taking so long, here's the edit.

**Genre/s:** Drama, Adventure, Horror, Supernatural, Humor, Angst, Family, Friendship, (maybe)Romance

**LAST EDITED:** October 24, 2012 12:12 PM

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**Origins (Part 2)**

My name is… Unimportant at this juncture, it changes too many times for me to be bothered with mentioning them all…

You ever had one of those days where you should have never even _thought _of crawling out of your mother's womb?

Story of my _fucking_ life.

I want to find the dumb bastard that said dying quickly wasn't painful so I can shoot him in the head and piss on the corpse.

Tentatively I'd say that I was reincarnated, it's the only explanation that I'm comfortable with, or necromancy, magic and voodoo, but that's my inner-nerd talking.

Or this could be a really elaborate dying dream.

I was born, things were blurry, and then I worked for the Professor.

I remember my first parent, the useless one who just happened to drink a lot, but apparently I don't have any memory of my parents in this life other that I may have had them, I have a distinct feeling that the Professor may be responsible for that bit. Or I could be just imagining things, hell I could be imagining everything right, everything's so fucked up, I'd probably believe either one!

Okay, calm, deep breaths, I'm fine. Just fine. Just breathe.

He'd first introduced himself as Professor Lender, but everyone just called him 'Professor.'

The Professor, always dressed up in his dapper black slacks, fancy Italian shoes and ebony longcoat, was tall man, almost unnaturally so. His face displayed a man in his late forties, though I had a feeling that he was _much _older than he looked, his eyes were a shade of shifting, glittery green that just seemed to reek of whispery magic, you know, like the creeper with the white van who offers you candy and a ride in his big white van.

I can barely trust my own memories of the most recent three years of my second life, not comforting. Though perhaps it had something to do with my brain capacity at that point…

I have crappy reflexes now, because as a little kid, that means I'm still coordinating everything, and a lot of my muscle memory has yet to be encoded. Life is a bitch on her period.

Oh, and getting resurrected hurts like a bitch. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being complete and total Harry Potter's '_crucio'_ level agony, I'm sitting on a fifty.

Fantastic.

This is my job, Jolly Molly the Bravest Little Stunt-Girl, the stunt-girl who can survive anything, part of the 'Professor's Grand Eccentric Circus.'

Okay maybe I'm exaggerating just a little, I very rarely die on stage, I just get fatally injured, and then the Professor forces me back from certain death with these magical runes etched in patterns all over my skin. Being immolated hurts like a bitch by the way, and so does missing the trapeze bar, the Professor so does love his sadism.

I have a pretty sweet trailer though, the bed's soft, a few toys, I am a kid to everyone after all, and a full dresser with my stage costumes and other pretty outfits for when I'm not performing. In short, a gilded cage, the Professor never treats anyone badly unless they evoke his ire.

Note that a pissed Professor is a scary Professor.

That man is a frickin' sadist.

Being brought back from the dead really, really hurts.

Surprisingly, it's not the physical that hurts so much, it's the sensation of being dragged back into your body and realigning with your nervous system that is still forcibly regenerating through magical means.

Also, I think the Professor has the hots for me. Damn creeper…

"You have such clear, pretty skin, dear girl."

I get the feeling that he wants to screw me when I'm older, Professor Lender is a total creeper, and a possible necrophile… Nope, nope, not gonna think about it, definitely do not need that image in my mind at ALL…

…

Dammit I thought about it, gross along with horrible possibilities and implications, fuck me.

'_Damn I think I just tempted fate, have to knock on some wooden railings later.'_

As if I haven't been progressively screwed enough, I'm just going to come out and say it, I'm in the DC Comics Universe.

How do I know this? Because there are freaking news reports on Superman, Batman and other 'hero' sightings, though they haven't formed a league yet so I can't really be sure _which_ DC-verse this is.

Or I could just be crazy and off my nut, there's always that possibility. Hell this could be a coma dream, I wouldn't know the difference!

I'm not going to argue against the rough eighteen years worth of memories of a completely different life floating around in my brain, otherwise I'll end up questioning my sanity more.

Also the fact that I see _magic_, necromancy and all sorts of other voodoo stuff on a semi-daily basis nowadays, I believe the impossible.

I remember being much more of a Marvel fan until recently when DC started making more shows, but I did appreciate DC comics stories as well, though I was more partial to Batman, Wonder Woman, and most of the more obscure DC heroes who didn't really get much of a spotlight.

I'm in some pretty deep shit.

'_I really, really, REALLY loathe you Professor.'_

Oh, did I mention that I really, really, really hate my job?

Today is my third birthday, and the Professor came up with seven more creative ways for me to almost die in the show tonight.

No matter, because I'm going to escape today.

After the show, I change out of costume and rush out of my trailer ignoring the protests of my half healed body and the lingering pain, it was now or never. I spot a plain-looking, brown-haired man in a faded brown jacket, and almost desperately, I approach and tug on his sleeve.

"Hello? Mister?" The stranger turned to look at me, and his eyes flashed with recognition, yes he remembers me from the show! Maybe _there _is a kind deity in the universe watching out for me!

Before he could make a sound, I fell to my knees and looked up at him imploringly.

"Please get me out of here."

God this was a stupid plan.

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**A/N:** Okay, I've veered off into an entirely kinda/sorta different direction than I'd originally intended before this fanfic was originally deleted off of fanfic. But I like this idea, yup here is my attempt at a reincarnation of real person into another world fic, wish me luck(both for the fic and with college drawing nearer and nearer, good God I'm nervous). I don't know why, school is school, college is just a different format, but I'm nervous as hell and I've been trying to distract myself lately. Please leave a review, tell me what you guys think, and yeah, I would really appreciate a critique/constructive criticism. My next chapter will be longer than this and I bid you all a good night, ciao! ;)

**REVISED AS OF: **October 24, 2012 12:12 PM


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